Loose Ends
by snarechan
Summary: Sentinel Prime won’t take how things ended sitting down; he’ll take them standing up in Jazz’s face and yelling a lot.


Loose Ends

By Snare-chan

**Pairings**: None, but feel free to read into it however much you want?  
**Ratings**: T  
**Category(ies):** General  
**Warning(s)**: Spoilers for Season 3, Episode 11: This Is Why I Hate Machines and up  
**Status**: One-shot, complete  
**Summary**: Sentinel Prime won't take how things ended sitting down; he'll take them standing up in Jazz's face and yelling a lot.

**Notes**: This was written for my own little enjoyment, spur of the moment one day. I woke up with the inclination to experiment with both characters, and didn't stop writing until I worked it out of my system. I'd claim that writing these two was as challenging as I imagined, but then I'd be a liar. They're almost-out-of-my-league challenging, but I'm glad I made the attempt.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers: Animated; wish I did like everybody else. They should put TF:A in stock, then I'd buy it all!

* * *

One solar cycle had passed since Sentinel Prime had received news that Megatron, lord of the Decepticons, was apprehended. One single solar cycle had passed since he learned that Optimus, of all Autobots, was going to be the one to drop him off, gift wrapped and bowed and ready to present to the masses. One _whole, _single solar cycle had passed, but it felt a whole lot longer than that when he thought about how precarious his position now stood, and how his universe was forced apart.

He'd been holding off what he was about to do, his pride a separate entity of its own that did as it liked, when it liked. But it was as indecisive as he was, and where, in the beginning, it had been determined to never speak to Jazz again for however long they existed, the more he stewed over the issue, the more wounded it felt. His plan to remain silent lasted through the night, and crumbled immediately after.

Stomping through the corridors that made up the Elite Guard barracks, he didn't care about hiding how livid he was. They were relatively empty, anyway, considering the time. Those who hadn't been celebrating were getting their morning rations, and those who had were no doubt passed out in their rooms. He was focused on his goal, ignoring the few soldiers he passed along the way, including Jetfire and Jetstorm, as he approached Jazz's quarters.

He gave the door a couple of hard knocks, leaving a dent on the last pass. There didn't appear to be any activity coming from inside the room, the cyber-ninja no doubt too absorbed in listening to that disgusting, _organic_ music again to hear him, so he pulled out his override pass card. Sentinel Prime didn't worry about pulling rank in this instance; it was dire that he speak to him without delay, because what he had to say was of the highest importance.

"Er, sir?" Jetfire said, starting towards him.

"_What?_" he snapped, continuing through with his intentions. The door slid open, and he took a step inside, prepared to bark orders, but they didn't make it past conception. Nobody occupied the space; it was dark inside, and looked as untouched as the day he'd seen it after Jazz had left to battle on Earth.

"He is to not being here," Jetfire finished behind him.

Jetstorm then explained, "He is to be residing off base, in north sector, sir."

The north sector was a district nearby that would put up those who had traveled off-planet for a long time until they were either reassigned to another space mission or decided to find a more permanent residence. A _civilian_ district. It nearly blew one of Sentinel Prime's circuits as he processed that, boggling over the idea that Jazz would rather spend his time there when he had his own personal accommodations here. He eventually settled on feeling insulted, and narrowed his optics.

The Autobot twins caught the expression he wore and took a noticeable step back, postures straightening and their hands going up in salute. He paid them no mind, having wasted enough time already, and punched the card reader until it produced his access pass, then stormed off.

Being a Prime allowed him permission to investigate a large percentage of information, the majority of it personal records and the like. His trip over to the next sector gave him enough time to find out exactly where Jazz was staying, the data nearly halting him in his steps. It was in the same building as Optimus and his crew.

He wavered outside the doors to the building, shifting on his feet, and took the extra precaution of sizing up the place. It was a simple apartment-like complex and seemed harmless… Surely, Optimus wasn't _present_ at this time, probably too busy getting patted on the back and accepting thousands of awards. The rest of the crew he couldn't remember clearly, and he decided they wouldn't be an issue.

Going through the entrance, he took the elevator to the third floor, counting off doors for the second time that day until he came to the one he needed, and knocked. His fist was harsh against the metal, but he didn't try to pound his way through the surface or break his way in. His persistence and patience paid off, and Sentinel Prime sensed muffled footsteps and then someone unlocking the door, the 'bot he'd been searching for finally showing his faceplate.

The cyber-ninja looked visibly surprised to see him, going so far as to admit it by asking him, "Yo, SP. What are you hangin' around these parts for?"

Forgetting that they were still situated outside, where the public optic or audio could easily pick them up, he let go of his pent up frustration by bellowing, "I could ask _you_ the same thing! I've been searching across all of Cybertron for you! Why aren't you back in your quarters, huh?!"

Jazz obviously hadn't forgotten that if this continued, they'd be disturbing the peace, and nimbly stepped aside to welcome him in. Sentinel Prime had no qualms about doing so, strutting and roughly shoving Jazz further aside to make room for his entry. Openly, he gave the small space a critical once over. It was simple, like the barracks were simple, but offered a bit more humble accommodations, like a sitting area for guests.

"Is there some kinda trouble?"

"_Yeah_," he snarled, "There's 'some kinda trouble.' The council might not have demanded an explanation yet, but I sure want some answers from you!"

Unfazed, a fact that irritated Sentinel Prime like nothing else could, Jazz motioned for the other to continue.

"Alrighty then – shoot."

"Well…you can…you can start by telling me why you're here! You're still an Elite Guard, and your station is back with us!" he fumbled, this question having been bothering him the most recently, so it was the first question to occur to his processor.

He received a shrug, the motion fluid and calm, as Jazz hopped back onto the nearest surface and got situated. Jazz would always do that when he sensed he was going to be interrogated by one of the superiors, lounging back for a long haul. Having picked up on this multiple times in the past, Sentinel Prime stubbornly remained standing. So he expected to be at this awhile – well, he would make sure to question him until his gears grinded with the prolonged inactivity, in that case! Sure, he planned on doing that in the beginning, but now it was guaranteed to happen.

"Nothing wrong with being close at hand if the action picks back up, yeah? And you gotta admit, OP and his cats have a habit of getting into the middle of a mess," he clarified, offering him a lopsided smile.

It was difficult to dismiss how Jazz referred to Optimus as he did, as if they were _close_ or something stupid like that. Sentinel Prime was accustomed to hearing the abbreviation applied just to him, he reasoned, and pushed aside the brief sputter of indignation that wanted to surface and reprimand the other for using it the way he did. It wasn't a crime to be friendly, though he thought it should be when applied to good ol' Optimus slagging Prime.

"Oh yeah? And what if the Elite Guard needs you? Not everybody gets to this level, you _know that!_ You're so…so…argh!" he yelled, throwing his hands into the air, and proceeded to rant about the other's sheer irresponsibility. His tangent led into how many rules the other broke by disobeying direct orders, lying about his intentions, purposely prolonging a mission, and went on until it came back full circle.

"You have a duty to Cybertron, to your fellow soldiers! Going off like that halfcocked against the Decepticons could have cost us everything! I mean, _sure_, Optimus _technically_ has the training, but the Elite Guard have superior skills and experience. We need your full cooperation and focused attention. You're a _cyber-ninja_; aren't you guys all about focus?!"

The other had a dull, straight look about him, and wasn't quick to respond, causing Sentinel Prime to loudly punctuate his name.

"_Jazz_, did you hear me?"

"Sure I did," he said, raising both hands in a placating gesture. "Be cool, man."

"I would be if I understood why you've been acting weird," he said, voice lowering and bordering on petulance. Jazz had nothing to say to that, apparently, and it was difficult to tell whether he was taken aback or surprised again by the observation.

"What, did you think it was hard to notice? Ever since we landed on that mudball you haven't been yourself. I figured you were always a bit different, seeing as you were into that organic stuff prior to our landing, but hey, at least you would do your _job_."

"Hey now; that's bogus. You can't pin nothin' on me and you know it."

And while the other didn't raise his voice in the slightest, there was a firm edge to it that hadn't been present a moment ago. In a twisted fashion, it brought Sentinel Prime satisfaction to hear it, that he was cracking at Jazz's renowned tranquility. Maybe, if he kept pushing, he'd obtain real information – like why he had become so distant.

"Sure I can!"

"Okay, give me an example of when I played hooky."

Floundering, he internally wracked his processor for the smallest of instances where Jazz had blatantly failed to follow through with an assignment, his record so squeaky clean it was washed _and _waxed to a fine finish. Save, of course, for his recent activities, which were more or less being overlooked by the council, considering his involvement in assisting the Earth-bound troops in stopping Megatron.

Grinding his dentals at the reminder of that, he bulldozed forward, furious.

He advanced on the other, directing an accusing finger at the other's chestplate as he shouted, "What I said earlier, of course, about you disobeying _my_ orders to get back the Magnus Hammer, and about you dawdling about on the planet like it was some nerd expedition when you were needed here, with _me_, to defend Cybertron!"

"Is that what you're thinking? That I was jivin' around there for kicks? SP—"

"I TRUSTED YOU," he interrupted, slamming his hands down on either side of him, and leaning in close. Jazz remained shorter than him, even then, with him sitting down on a desk and Sentinel Prime crouched.

Regret at admitting that consumed him immediately, because he never liked putting himself in a situation where blame could be directed back to him. Retrieving the weapon was the other's sole responsibility after he claimed he could; it was not Sentinel Prime's for permitting him to go, or for having faith in him to do as he said. It was a reckless mistake, both for forgetting himself and saying such a thing aloud, and for falling into that trap a second time. He'd trusted Optimus once, and that situation had ended as badly as this one had, too.

Neither backed down, however, the cyber-ninja sitting up straight and firmly leveling his visor at him, and he didn't let up and put space back between them. His posture dared Jazz to make something of it; if he thought for one click that he could mock him, he'd have another thing coming.

A touch to his elbow joint caused him to jump, and letting his optics fall to his right, he saw that Jazz's hand was the culprit. There was hardly a bit of pressure to the gesture, nothing that indicated an attack, but the gentle touch kept him tense. When he wanted to be, the other was quick, and the other was powerful; he found it difficult to conceive that it was a peaceful sign, even if he _wanted_ to take comfort from it.

"Here's the lowdown," Jazz spoke softly. "The thing with trust is that it has to go both ways, dig?

"You believe in the cause. You really think you do; I get that. We all gotta believe in it, or there isn't a reason to carry these emblems. I believe in them, too, just like I believe in upholding them, and that's why I went to help them. You got your way of doing things, and I got mine."

"But you don't believe in _me_, do you."

The phrase was final, a statement, and not a question. It settled like lead on top of him, cold and heavy. When Jazz didn't refute it, he moved away, wrenching his arm out of the other's grasp with one vicious motion. He felt like he didn't know who Jazz was; maybe he never knew him at all. That last thought didn't upset him so much as it frightened him.

"Lookit," Jazz ventured after a beat, "aren't you the one always sayin' the ends justify the means? Megatron is in the cooler and Cybertron can start recoverin'. What's past is past."

"It's _not_ past! Nothing is ever past!" Sentinel Prime said with conviction.

"You don't _get it!_ You think you do, but you don't. You might have fallen for Optimus' Boy Scout act – and I'm beginning to think you might even be in on it – but I haven't. Let me tell you something about trust. That 'bot is a washout, a has-been, a _failure_, and this time he might have been lucky, but someday – someday I bet real soon – he'll slag up so bad he'll bring what's left of this place crashing down around us. And then you'll be sorry for ever trusting him, you'll _all_ be sorry for trusting him!"

He whirled around, intending to leave; feeling foolish for thinking that time invested with Jazz was time well spent. Obviously, and this once he would barely admit it, he was wrong. The fight ahead he would have to bear alone.

"You need to mellow out, SP. Haulin' all this hate... It's not healthy," were the other's parting words.

Sentinel Prime didn't bother to turn around and see what expression Jazz wore; he didn't care. There wasn't a thing he could do or say to get through to his commander. He could beg, or reason with him, or bribe him, but it'd get him nowhere.

The fact that he didn't try left Sentinel Prime feeling bitter, and more empty than he surely would have felt had Jazz bothered to make an effort_._

"You have no right to call me that," he seethed, putting every ounce of venom he could into the words. "It's either Sentinel Prime or _sir_, to you. You had better remember that."

He shut the door behind him, it closing without an air of finality, like he'd hoped. There was no sense in beginnings, whether they be good or bad, either. The meeting left him feeling as if he were stuck in place, nothing gained, and nothing lost, because it's hard to achieve either when he had nothing in possession to improve…or lose. Of that, he was convinced.

-Fin-


End file.
